


Always A Pretty Boy

by wingedbears



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 12 Days of Harringrove, Body Worship, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Chubby Steve Harrington, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedbears/pseuds/wingedbears
Summary: Steve and Billy have been eating more lately, thanks to the holidays. Steve's got some pudge and hates it. Billy loves it.That's it.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 11
Kudos: 181





	Always A Pretty Boy

There’s something Billy loves about the way the lights on the Christmas tree glow on Steve’s skin. He’s reading, a thick book that Billy found in the fifty cent bin at the bargain store. Steve’s stomach is plump, just a small bump over the clasp of his jeans. It’s a sore spot for Steve, as Billy likes to point it out, especially with how the holidays have ramped up the eating habits of both of them. 

What Steve doesn’t fully grasp is the way Billy wants to nuzzle into Steve’s belly. _Bite it_. More.

“Hey,” Billy calls from the doorway, shrugging off his coat. “Smells good in here,” he tacks on, because it does. Something is either in the oven, or just came out and Billy’s mouth waters.

Steve hums, putting the book down on the chair’s arm.

“That guy remember anything yet?” Billy asks, nodding towards the book. 

“Nope,” Steve says, standing up and stretching with arms over his head, lifting his shirt enough to bare the strip of skin to Billy’s gaze.

Steve catches him at it, too, flops his arms down at his sides before crossing his arms. “Stop,” he hisses.

“Stop what,” Billy asks with no inflection, tilting his head.

Steve makes a face which Billy would have to be under oath to refer to as cute, and groans, frustrated. “I don’t like it either, Billy!” he says.

Billy blinks. “What?” he asks, walking the three paces to the living room. 

“My body, I mean, since I finished high school, I haven’t been playing basketball as much, and running is the worst, so, now I look like this,” Steve says, gesturing wildly to himself. 

“You look normal,” Billy retorts, shrugging.

“You still have abs!” Steve yells.

“Okay,” Billy sighs, knowing this is going nowhere good. “I work lifting heavy shit all the time. I lay on my back, and sit up. I’m a mechanic. Besides, I’m not always going to look like this.”

There’s the implication there, that if Steve sticks around, he’ll see Billy’s body in all it’s possible mutations, the way his skin will wrinkle, or the scars that are on his chest now, sharp vines spread all over. The thought that Steve might be around for Billy while his skin and scars go paper soft, that warms him. 

“Steve,” Billy starts again, clearing his throat, “do you really not like it?”

Steve huffs, and hums, and puts his hands on his hips, looking ridiculous, socks falling off his feet, jeans wrinkled. He runs a hand over his face. “I guess,” he stops. Starts again, “I’m not much, and what I have is my looks,” he says, and Billy rushes over to hold him for a moment, to catch the words falling out before they shatter at Steve’s feet.

“You,” Billy says, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s temple, pushing up on his toes to do so, “are always gonna be my pretty boy. No matter what you look like.”

Steve makes a strange sound in his throat, and Billy pulls back. Steve’s blushing. 

“And you may think you’re not much, but it’s mine, got it?” Billy says, tripping over words of affection and attachment.

“Okay,” Steve sighs.

Billy plays with the edge of Steve’s shirt, the hem crisp in his fingers. “Is dinner ready?” he asks.

“Not for like, thirty minutes, why?” Steve asks. 

“Let me show you,” Billy says, because he’s never really been one for words. 

Steve studies him for a moment, and he must see something in Billy, Billy whose body is a knot of scar tissue, Billy whose been sewn back together with thin threads of promise.

Steve nods.

“‘Kay,” Billy says, clearing his throat, and unbuttons Steve’s jeans, letting the fly down. 

Steve already kissing Billy’s neck, hands on his shoulders.

Billy pushes him back in the chair where Steve was reading. The book falls off the arm with a thump.

Steve looks at him, amused, curious. Trusting. 

Billy lifts up Steve’s shirt, looking for a moment as Steve breathes, steady movement of skin, warm in the lights of the Christmas tree. Billy runs his fingers along the hair there, the trail of hair becoming more thick and coarse as it continued south to Steve’s cock. 

Billy tugs Steve’s jeans down a little, giving him room to work. He pecks a small kiss hello on Steve’s rising bulge. He drags his lips up to the rolls on Steve’s belly, soft and warm.

And nips at it.

“Fuck!” Steve says, twitching in the chair. 

Billy keeps his hands steady on Steve’s hips. He licks wide swathes of his tongue on Steve’s belly, it giving underneath him. He drags his teeth across all the hills and valleys of Steve’s stomach, biting at anything he can grasp his jaws on. 

He goes back over with soft lips, pressing kisses onto the scrapes and bruises Steve’s going to have from Billy.

Billy keeps at it for a while, letting Steve tug at his hair, holding Billy steady there, ignoring the nudges down to Steve’s crotch.

“Billy, please,” Steve says.

Billy hums, but is undeterred by his mission of sucking a hickey underneath and to the left of Steve’s bellybutton. He swipes his thumbs over Steve’s hips, softer than usual.

“Billy,” Steve whines, trying to get him down from over sensitised flesh down to the cock that’s been bumping up against Billy’s throat this whole time. 

Billy sits up between Steve’s knees, pulls out that pretty cock, wet at the tip already. 

Billy spits in his hand before palming Steve again, stroking him lazily, up and down, thumbing over the head every once and a while.

Steve can’t seem to say anything but Billy’s name.

Billy rubs his other hand over the spit dried mess that’s Steve’s soft belly, and Steve grunts, wide eyed and unable to look away. 

“I like you,” Billy says, “so I like this,” squeezing a handful of Steve. “Wanna know why?”

Steve nods, panting as Billy takes him into his mouth. Billy sucks, kitten licking the tip, and Steve shakes, coming. 

Cum splatters over Billy’s knuckles, but he just reaches down to his own jeans, unbuckling and unzipping, Steve trying to help but mostly being floppy.

Billy strokes himself, knowing he’s not going to last long. He doesn’t, aiming for Steve’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Steve keens, watching Billy. 

Billy licks his hand and Steve’s stomach clean, mouth and lips sore but buzzing. “I like this,” he says again, looking into Steve’s doe brown eyes, willing him to understand, “because you look like someone’s taking care of you.”

Steve smiles, soft and warm. “Someone is.”

**Author's Note:**

> there's a moodboard I made for this [here!](https://wingedbears.tumblr.com/post/189445830878/theres-something-billy-loves-about-the-way-the) and you can come yell at me [here!](https://wingedbears.tumblr.com/)


End file.
